


From Space

by winninghearts



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winninghearts/pseuds/winninghearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz/Wesley fluff, a (quite a bit later) follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/288472">A to Z</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	From Space

It is Friday night/very early Saturday morning. When Liz gets home from her show, the things she wants are simple things. Comfy clothes, some night cheese, for Wesley to shut his rainy little island mouth long enough for her to catch up on her DVR. Food, pajamas, and a blanket while she lies against her warm, quiet husband and watches _Chopped_. Wendy will be asleep, and she will stay that way until 9:00am. These are the things Liz dreams of as she slips her key into the apartment door.

Life is never Liz's dream, though. Wesley is sitting on the sofa with a wide-awake Wendy, who lets out a squeal that is impossible to decipher as happy or terrified. It's halfway between meeting Mickey Mouse and being shoved through a toddler-sized shredder.

“And that is a Cyberman,” Wesley says, as he attempts to hold the-girl-who-can-never-sit-still in his lap. “Don't be frightened; it is only on the telly, but they take out your mind and put it in a metal- Oh, look, Mummy's home!” Wesley pauses the television as Wendy squirms out of his lap and dives her hands into a bowl full of rainbow Goldfish.

“Wesley, do you realize how ridiculously late it is?” Liz picks up her daughter, using her sleeve to wipe the multi-colored cheese dust off of her face. “And she is up with you? Eating snacks? And watching British sci-fi?” She outright groans when Wendy reaches out her little arms for a juice box on the coffee table. “She is going to completely wired; I might as well forgot about her getting _any_ sleep tonight.” She reluctantly relinquishes the little girl, who immediately goes for the juice, almost shoving half of the carton in her mouth in the process. Liz sighs and plops down on the sofa next to Wesley.

“She wouldn't go to sleep.”

“Like you even tried,” Liz mutters, picking up the remote and going to the DVR menu. “If she is going to stay up all night watching science fiction, she is at least going to watch something life enriching. Like Star Wars.”

Wesley gives a derisive snort, and Liz raises an eyebrow in response.

“Do you have something to say?” Her tone is dangerous Lemon, edging on stolen food proportions.

Wesley has never been frightened of his wife, though he has also never seen her toss a table. He shrugs, completely confident in his opinion. “It is all a bit banal, you'd have to agree. Completely lacking in originality.” He reaches down and wrestles the juice-box out of Wendy's mouth, pulling the straw out of it and then giving it back to her to nom on to her heart's content.

“Excuse me?” Liz's voice cracks a bit. “You better get into your beloved TARDIS, go back in time ten seconds, and take back what you just said, because that is blasphemy. I will not have it around my child.”

“Liz, you know perfectly well that I could not cross my own time stream. It is strictly forbidd-”

Liz cuts him off. “Not the point!”

“Oh, don't get your knickers in a bundle. I apologize for insulting your precious film.” He pauses, and for a moment Liz thinks that he is admitting defeat and retreating. She treats herself to a purple Goldfish. She is wrong, however. Of course.

“Honestly, though, I think we can at least admit that it is an absolute rip-off of _Space Scuffles_.”

“Of _what_?”

“Are you really going to tell me that you have never heard of _Space Scuffles_? Are you or are you not in the entertainment industry?” Wesley looks absolutely shocked, as he does every time Liz shows no knowledge of ridiculous British things that he obviously views as the most basic elements of the world.

Liz really does not feel like getting into this. _Choose your battles, Lemon._ Watching _Doctor Who_ instead of _Star Wars_ is at least worth not eventually being subjected to _Space Scuffles_ , if it even truly exists. She concedes the remote to him with a grimace, and he just smiles, putting an arm around her in a way that is actually quite nice.

“Look,” he whispers, pointing to the toddler sprawled out on the floor surrounded by broken toys and crushed Cheerios.

“Aww,” Liz says. “She crashed from her sugar high.”

Wesley stands up quietly, tiptoeing over to her. “I'm going to put her in her crib,” he says in a soft voice. “And then I'll be back.” He cradles Wendy in his arms and makes it to the stairs before he pauses and turns back. “Why don't you put it on _Chopped_ , instead? I am feeling more like food than time and space travels now. And I bought some cheeses at the shop today, if you want to go put some on a plate to nibble on.”

He then starts up to the nursery, and Liz can't help but sink back into the sofa and smile a bit.


End file.
